


Beyond the Great Divide

by zombiesquad13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiesquad13/pseuds/zombiesquad13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles finds an old journal of his mother’s questions about his family arise and he finds himself very quickly smack dab in the middle of an ancient blood feud that of course involves werewolves, but also vampires, crazy ass shamans, and the single most terrifying woman in his life, and this is taking into account that he knows Lydia Martin and Allison Argent…his Aunt Elizabeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue: A confusing discovery

                Stiles sneezed as he picked up another box and a cloud of dust poofed into existence. He frowned and shook his head, his whole body making a shimmying motion as the dust followed his face and was trying to find its way into his nose. “Oh, ugh, gack!” He hacked out and because he was Stiles Stillinsky and could not have a break once in his life his foot caught on a gap in between the floor boards and came crashing down with a sharp, “ _Shitballs!_ ”

                He cringed at the tell tale sound of glass breaking and knew that the box of Christmas decorations he had been begrudgingly sent to get after his father had taken one look at the stick propped up and burning cheerily away in the skillet Stiles had set up on the kitchen table and said, “ _Fine, you win. But_ **you** _young man are going to be the one who gets the lights from up in the attic!”_ Stiles wondered at the ratio of fail:win for this particular Battle of the Stillinsky’s that he had been engaged in with his father since he was five. The first Epic Battle of Dad Stillinsky vs Bo Bo Baby Boo High King of the Bears had been memorable and completely inconclusive, but it had started a family tradition that managed to survive even the agony of his mother’s death. 

                He sighed and sneezed again when yet another cloud of dust attempted to suffocate him, he scowled and dragged his shirt up and over his nose breathing shallowly through his mouth. It did nothing for the musty moldy smell that always permeated the attic, but it helped with the dust. He winced when something in his back pinched but he resolutely rolled to his side and got his hands under him enough to push up, and out of the corner of his eyes he noticed something big and dark. Pushed into the back corner of the attic, behind a plethora of boxes and random broken furniture was a large black chest. He could only see it because of the angle, and he shuffled forward inching past boxes and various other clutter until he was finally in front of it.

                Closer inspection showed that it wasn’t black per se instead it was a deep mahogany with intricate spirals carved across the wood into elaborate and extremely detailed designs that he couldn’t see clearly due to the poor lighting provided from the single bulb that swayed alarmingly from the single chord strung up from the ceiling. He grunted and managed to get his body up just enough to get a hold of the sides, a task that was easier said than done since the chest was easily the length of his arm span. And it was _heavy_ , god what the hell?

                He finally managed to get the chest into the middle of the attic, underneath the light, and gaped when the symbols became clear. It was a Triskeli, or more accurately a dozen or so Triskeli, each outlining into three separate symbols representing what looked to be various animals, plants, and celestial bodies. But the one that stood out the most was the huge and complicated pattern on the lid of the chest. It was old, older than some of the designs and looked to have been worn down by what was probably generations of hands tracing the curves and grooves of the wood, but the design was still clear each symbol distinct and well defined.

                It was a giant Triskeli, the loops flowing out through the wood almost like they had simply grown that way rather than being carved. The spiral leading to the left blew out from the tight center and flowed into a wolf, head tilted up and jaw outlined in a powerful howl. There was a single blood red stone that caught the light dimly in its cloudy depths from where the wolves eyes would be and Stiles felt a shiver of apprehension skate down his spine. What in the ever loving _fuck_ was this thing doing in _his house_? The spiral on the right bloomed out like the wolf but this time it was in the form of a giant black bird, its wings fanning out and claws extended as if to attack. A stone that was easier to identify than the red one in the wolf, obsidian if Stiles remembered right from the time from when one of the camp counselors had been particularly obsessed with rocks during the Summer that didn’t happen, glittered in the birds eye and seemed almost to suck the light in. And the final spiral, the one that basically confirmed his suspicions that this chest had something to do with the wonderful world of the supernatural, was that of a large full moon. It was a massive spiral and wound into itself until it wrapped around a smooth pool of silver that glinted and shined despite the amount of dust caked on it.

                “What the _fuck_!” Shot out of his lips like a gun shot and he jerked back from the chest as if it had burned him. “What is this? _Whose_ is this? What the _fuck_!” Words sped out of his mouth as he tried to get a grip on the reality that something that was very obviously supernatural related was in his attic and from the looks of the dust coating the chest had been in his attic for _a while_. He scrambled back and bumped into another stack of boxes causing them to teeter ominously. He didn’t even blink when the boxes gave up the battle against gravity and crashed loudly behind him, instead his eyes were pinned to the chest as if it would randomly spring to life and attack him.

                But the chest simply sat there, all muted colors and swirling designs that were weird, yes, but didn’t seem to be glowing or moving ominously. So, that was a good sign.

He let out a breath and crept forward, wincing as his knees reminded him that he was on hard wood and not cushy carpet. But he stayed kneeling until he reached the chest and with his heart hammering in his chest like a jack rabbit on speed he reached out and very carefully poked the lid. He cracked an eye open that he hadn’t realized he had closed when he felt the grimy dust and the smooth wood of the chest.

                “O-kay. So. Creepy ass chest suddenly appearing in my attic, with creepy ass carvings that just _scream_ supernatural and yet,” He poked it again, “Does not seem to be anything more than a chest.” He squared his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, “All right Stiles, if ever you were going to earn the title of Supreme Ruler of the Universe than now would be the time.” He said bolstering his courage and grasping the lid with both hands. In his haste to get the thing done before the brief influx of steel into his spine dissipated, he _may_ have used a tad more strength then necessary which caused the lid to fling easily open yes – but also put his ass on the floor hard enough he was pretty sure he had bruised his tail bone.

                He cursed and flailed a little as the dull throb turned into an inferno of _agony_ that twisted low on his spine and flared straight up to his brain. His back bowed and he was pretty sure his lungs had stopped processing air as the pain washed over him, but he had had a lifetime of dealing with a body that refused to function within the parameters of reality and soon he had managed to regulate the pain to the background. It still hurt like a bitch and he knew he would have one hell of a bruise, but he could breathe again even if only in harsh gasps that burned almost as much as his ass. ‘ _Jesus, I better not have broken it!’_ He thought petulantly, the last thing he needed was for him to go around with a broken ass. He could almost hear Jackson now: “ _Hey Stillinsky, looks like you finally got your virgin ass_ broken _in!”_ and the sniggers of the rest of the pack.

                He snapped out of his thoughts when he caught sight of the open lid and the musty smell of linens and parchment that he had always associated with his Grand-pa filled the attic. He stilled and when the innocuous looking sheets that peeked out seemed to be just that – slightly yellowed-with-age white sheets that were lined with some kind of delicate embroidery that flowed around the edges of the corner he could see. He shuffled over on his knees, wincing only slightly when his tail bone protested. Yep. Definitely going to have one massive bruise.

                But the chest was calling and Stiles carefully reached out and touched the sheets. They were cold, and _soft_ , not quite the consistency of silk but wasn’t fluffy like cotton. He moaned a little when he let himself pull the sheets up in his hands and buried his face in them, he knew what these were and the hole in his heart that had appeared the day his mother died ached just a little bit more.

                These were his _mother’s_ sheets. The sheets that she had kept on her and his fathers bed until the day they had buried her and his father had gotten drunk for the first time in Stiles life. He had then proceeded to take everything of his mothers and pack it up, not saying anything and just…packing and drinking. Stiles had just gone up to his room and sat on his bed and just…stared at his wall for the rest of the night. It hadn’t been until Mellissa and Scott had come over the next day to cook breakfast for them that Stiles had finally broken down and cried into Scotts shoulder as his best friend simply held him. He didn’t know what happened between Mellissa and his Dad but when he had finally come down stairs clutching Scott like a security blanket his dad’s eyes had been red. His dad had taken one look at Stiles and had pulled him into a crushing hug, and though his dad still flinched when Stiles had unearthed another of his mother’s things but he didn’t try to pack them back up.

                But the sheets had been retired, and his dad’s room was the one place where there was not a trace of his mother. Stiles had always thought it was because his father had to keep reminding himself that she wasn’t here and that she wasn’t going to come back. After all, his parents had had one of the most epic loves Stiles had ever witnessed and that was even after watching The Notebook _and_ Big Fish. It was the reason he had pursued Lydia for so long, the reason he himself viewed love not as a game to get better at as you go but as one of those epic novels that survive for generations. That was what his parents had had and that was what he wanted, wanted a love just as powerful and complete as when he was a kid and his family had been healthy and whole.

                Stiles didn’t realize he was crying until he tried to take another breath of the old familiar sheets and all he got was mucus. He pulled back, not wanting to get his snot all over his mother’s sheets and wiped his nose on his sleeve. This chest belonged to his mother, and though it opened a whole can of worms with its obvious supernatural highlights he wasn’t afraid of it. Nothing of his mother’s would ever hurt him, and so he folded the sheets gently up putting them on his lap so they wouldn’t get dirty and began digging through the chest.

                Each item he pulled out held an old memory and his heart kept going from painfully happy to just painful. He pulled out his mother’s favorite perfume, still half full, and he gave it a spray and choked back a sob as her scent filled the room. Lavender and Sage, she had always said it reminded her of her garden and she loved smelling like her favorite place in the world. Next were some baby clothes his mother must have kept from when he was born. Then some old photos of his mother when she was younger, and more than a few of her with his father. And wow, his dad could pull off bell bottoms, something he could have gone his whole life not knowing.

                He pulled out a quilt his mother had made for his father one Christmas and frowned when he looked at what was underneath. It was an old leather brown journal, the pages yellowed with age and the gold filigree that was embossed across the front was so faded that Stiles couldn’t make out the words. He picked it up and jumped when something like an electric current ran up his arm. He would have dropped it but his hand wouldn’t listen to him and instead he found himself pulling it out of the chest and opening it up.

                A part of his mind was shouting that this was a bad idea, that whatever supernatural shit his mother had going on this journal was tied to it and handling things like that willy nilly usually ended up in death. Bloody. Painful. Death. Something he wasn’t much of a fan of, but there was another side of him that was confident. It was the part of him he had found that night at the rave, when they were trying desperately to stop Jackson from killing again and Deaton had given him the Mountain Ash. That part had _seen_ the ash working, had believed in it so strongly that he hadn’t noticed he had reached the end until he had looked down and seen the completed circle.

                So instead of dropping the clearly magical journal down and running like hell to Deaton, he instead pulled on the thick leather strap that held the journal closed and opened it. The first thing he noticed was that though it did have the usual smell of dust and ancient paper, it also contained a hint of the woods. The faint musk of the dirt, and the sharp scent of pine on a crisp winter day. It was the smell he usually associated with the Pack, seeing as the only place they ever really hung out was in the woods or at the dilapidated train station. Than he noticed the decidedly not as ancient as the rest of the journal envelope with his name- his real name- scrawled across the front in his mother’s hand writing.

                For a second he felt his heart stop, and then it picked up again in a ragged tempo that would probably have deafened any of the wolves. “Mom.” The word he hadn’t uttered since that sunny summer day ten years ago when he had watched them cover his mom with dirt, slipped past his lips and he closed the journal quickly. He wasn’t ready for whatever it was she had to say, wasn’t ready to have that wound reopened and his feelings to come pouring out. So he tucked the journal up and under his arm and slowly put everything back into the chest. Whatever was going on he was sure that it wasn’t over, that him finding the chest and the journal had started something big…possibly even bigger than anything they had encountered before.

                As he closed the door to the attic and walked determinedly down the stairs the journal still clutched tightly to him, he knew one thing for certain. His mom had known and she had left him something to deal with it…and when he was finally ready to have his heart ripped out again than he would find out what it was and use it to deal with whatever the fuck new kind of big bad would come tearing into town after it. And if that night when he went to bed he had the journal tucked safely underneath his pillow, well, whatever knowledge it held he was sure it would need to be protected. So he kept it close, and three days after having found it and the chest he finally opened it up and began to read. Though he still left the envelope unopened. He still wasn’t ready to hear what his mother had to say.

                Of course, what the first entry said was strange enough that it completely took his mind off of just _whose_ journal he was reading.

_Once upon a time the Sky fell in love with the Earth - but alas the Earth was mortal and thus could not comprehend the Sky as anything other than a blank canvas that changed from time to time. But the Sky was endless, as vast as Time and just as eternal. He knew that if he wanted the Earth he would have to be patient. So he pursued her endlessly, he tried everything. He showered her with his presence wrapping himself around her, singing her songs that she felt as the wind blowing across her form, pouring his tears of frustration upon her in such great tides that the Oceans were born. As he tried again and again to reach this stunning creature who had stolen his heart, shielding her forever from the chaos of Existence that threatened her very mortal life. For she was Life, from her came first the trees who sunk their roots deep into their Mother and draped her body with their leaves, then came the animals. Creatures of minimal intelligence that preferred to roam her form rather than follow their fauna brethren and tickled her with their fur as they flourished and ran across her. But as with all life, Death was just as present, inherited from their Mother who would outlive them all, but was vulnerable to the very things that made him live._

_He never faltered in his devotion to the Earth, though he eventually ceased attempting to talk to her and simply watched her. So he knew that though she was surrounded by her children she was lonely, there was no other like her and though she loved all her children dearly they could not soothe the ache that had begun to throb in her chest. Only looking at the Sky lessened the pain but it never really went away. So the Sky tried once more to speak to his love, he used every power he possessed and reached out to touch her, but just as always she simply could not hear him. The Sky’s heart actually broke slightly then and he raged and raged as the pain ripped through him, agony unlike any other seared through him. His form reacted convulsing around the Earth and causing her to shake violently in fear as the Sky broke._

_Her oceans raged and the land her children lived upon shifted and erupted laying waste to everything and anything that ran across it. Horrible storms and tumultuous clouds of Death ravaged her body and she cowered from the agony, she felt every death and felt the pain of her own wounds to her very core. So for seven days and seven nights the Earth and the Sky raged in the Heavens._

_Neither one remembered the seven days or the seven nights, but they did remember the eighth day. A brilliant morning that bathed the Earth in the golden rays of the Sun and had her waking up far far different than what she was before. For the first time the Earth walked upon her flesh and saw herself as her children saw her, and in the sky was a glowing orb that illuminated everything and let her see what only the Sky had seen thus far…how very beautiful she was. But she was not alone there was another upon her and she could feel him underneath her skin. The ache in her chest blossomed and she took in the form she had taken. She was human, trapped in the flesh of a corporeal being and now twice as vulnerable as she had been. Or at least her flesh was her Spirit was still that of the Earth, vast, solid and enduring. She could still feel her true Self just under the flesh and had a connection to all of her children breathing deep of the air until she caught the Others scent. She moved before she could think and learned that though she was bound to a corporeal form she could take any shape that she wished, she lost herself in the sensation of running in the different forms of her children and briefly forgot the reason she had begun her hunt. But soon the scent hit her again and she was off. She ran long and hard across the land, rejoicing in her children and in the freedom of running underneath the Sky, but the Other tugged at her and always brought her attention back to him whenever she strayed too far._

_Yet he was always out of reach, just around a bend or down a river, but never in sight, never in reach. It drove her wild and the darker side of her was brought slowly out until she was just as ferocious as the deadliest of her children. She learned to pace herself, for every time she rushed towards the Other his scent disappeared and it would be many, many days before she would catch it again, going the completely different direction and farther away. But when she stalked her prey, when she took her time and focused her very heartbeat towards the Other she could almost feel him. He was the breeze, a mix of rain and Earth that soothed her and made her crave more. But every day she did not find him her Spirit dimmed a little more. Until soon her spark was just a sputtering flame and she lay upon the ground looking up into the Sky at the full silver moon that always lit her way. She was dying, and though she had felt the deaths of her children, she had never before felt the cold hand of her brother upon her breast . She wasn’t afraid, she was the flame of creation made manifest and knew that though Death would always take her she would always return. But she did not know how she would return, and though she sometimes missed her old form she would be lost without the freedom to run across it. So she made a choice and with her few last breaths she called to the Other, she gave into the constant ache in her heart and begged him to come to her._

_The Moon shone brightly and though she could not have asked for a nicer place to die the Other never appeared. At least until the moonlight reached the break in the trees and shone unfiltered through the leaves. And there he was, perfect as she had somehow known he would be and so real that her eyes burned with tears and her heart swelled. His eyes were the same color as the Sky she had always known, pitch black and filled with a thousand tiny lights. He was frozen though, and she huffed a short breath at his contrariness. Of course he would appear when she was dying and unable to tackle him and do…whatever one did with another like themselves…hmm, maybe it was a good thing she was incapacitated. She did not even know what the hell He was; just that he was as clearly masculine as her sons. So she simply laid upon the ground and called softly to him, beckoning him towards her. About to knock on her brother’s door she may be but that did not mean she would pass up the chance to actually talk to someone other than her adorable, playful, dumb children._

_The Sky could not believe it was true, that after all this time the Earth was calling to him it was mind boggling, something he had never before experienced and thus had no prior warning that it rendered one incoherent and slightly resembling one of her oaks. But when she closed her eyes and went limp against the ground he was by was by her side in an instant; reaching shaking hands to finally, finally touch her. Though, admittedly…could have been under better circumstances than him blowing them both up and forcing them into these tedious forms. When he had first awoken, naked on the ground bathed in moonlight he had had a few questions. Like why he was experiencing pain in his lower region and had an incessant need to…squat? He had not needed to know how a corporeal being processed their energy but apparently his new form had a tiny bladder and he had just been thankful that she had not been around to witness his complete and utter disgrace._

_But that was all irrelevant now, she was here and she was dying and no she couldn’t die because she had finally talked to him, had finally looked him in the eye and he would be damned if he let her go back to being blind and deaf to him. Her bastard of a brother would no doubt laugh his ass off if he could see them now, and the fact that he hadn’t appeared yet gave him hope. But, as usual, he was worrying about the wrong sibling when Earth jerked forward and bit into his side with fangs that were definitely not there a minute ago. He jerked as pain shot through him and grimaced at the sensation of his own blood leaving his body…that was new, and most unwelcome, but soon another sensation began to filter through his senses. Her tongue dragging every so lightly against the edges of her bite, he was also not familiar with the sensation of arousal and managed to just barely stop from disgracing himself again._

_He fought against his bodies reactions and opened his eyes to get a good look at the woman he had been hopelessly in love with for almost as long as he could remember. When he had first spied the Earth all those years ago she had been an explosion of light as in the death of the first star brought forth new life. She had been alight with the power of the dying star and when most would have squandered that power letting their light shine as brightly as their creator she instead absorbed it into herself. And though she did not shine as brightly as her brethren she had a more enduring strength and where most of his brothers and sisters would sputter out and fade into the Void she would remain. In all of the heavens there had never been one as close to himself as she and he had fallen instantly and hopelessly in love with her._

_So he took his time as he looked upon her, how the moonlight seemed to soak into her dark brown skin and make it glow before it caressed her lily white skin and made it shine as bright as pearls. She had long lean legs that went forever and rounded into curves and flesh that would constantly change, one moment curvy and plump – the next lithe and slender. When his eyes finally met hers he felt his heart stop and then start again thumping wildly in his chest. Her eyes were as ever changing as the rest of her, at once vivid blue to brilliant emerald and then to warm honey brown, but always containing the same ferocious spirit that had caught his eye in the first place._

_Huh. Apparently she wasn’t dying…and when her ruby red - that quickly changed to soft petal pink - lips that parted into a wide and devious grin that showed the beginnings of the very same fangs that had just attempted to take a chunk out of his side he knew that something had changed in their dynamic very abruptly. Panic and an overwhelming sense of home fought in equal parts of him, but she had different plans and that night under the full moon she bound them together for all eternity gifting him with part of her essence and making him able to shift form like her and to – more importantly- not disappear once the sun rose. Apparently since he had always lived in a state of existence that was creepily similar to the Void, he could not manifest under the intense light from the sun, but since being so similar to the Void also meant that he lacked a form made it impossible to see him in the dark. It was only the rays of the full moon that could make him manifest and only then as the mortal man he had become. So from that night on they roamed the Earth together building a family of others like themselves, their first children were the shape shifters -_

_“Stiles!_ Where the hell is all the steak I bought for dinner tonight?” Sheriff Stillinsky’s bellow brought Stiles out of the journal he had found in his mom’s old things, looking up he grimaced when his father appeared in his doorway red in the face and gun hand twitching sporadically.

Sighing he put the old leather bound book down and prepared himself for tonight’s showing of Epic Dinner Battle at the Stillinsky’s, something that had started when Stiles had switched a rack of mouthwatering baby back ribs just _dying_ to be eaten with a large salad…with not so much as a shred of chicken in it. 

  
A/N: So this is my first time posting on AO3 and I hope I did it right, enjoy and I expect to update weekly. And already have several chapters ready.


	2. An Introduction and a Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first domino has fallen and now all the pieces are falling into place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the second installment of BTGD hope you enjoy!

She took a deep breath and pushed down on the gas a little harder than was probably wise. Her tires squealed against the gravel drive and she could smell the telltale scent of burnt rubber. But she never glanced back as she high tailed it away from the ridiculously large house. Instead she focused on the road and the fact that when the occupants of said house finally woke up from their drug induced sleep they were probably going to want to kill her, with their claws.  When she had finally gotten out of the _county_ that housed said house and occupant she relaxed and didn’t even really jump when her cell phone went off with a very familiar ringtone.

                ‘Well, somebody is just a little superman isn’t he?’ She thought as she glanced down to her phone, she had specifically doubled his dose in the hopes that he would be the last to wake…but sure enough there was the caller ID of the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Which is why she immediately activated her blue tooth and took the call. ‘Aaand of course our will power when it comes to him is that of a woman on her cycle confronted with a huge carton of cookie dough.’ She thought with a derisive snort.

                “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?”She winced and inadvertently jerked the wheel as his roar rang straight into her ear. She just managed to swerve out of the way of an incoming Semi and turned down the volume on her phone. It made his bellow go from brain melting to just above a yell, but she could still see the all caps in his words. Yup. Definitely wanted to rip her throat out.

                “OK, so maybe my methods were a little extreme, but sweet cheeks you weren’t listening to me.” She said some sick masochistic side of her taking pleasure in the fact that he was still talking to her…well bellowing but with the volume down it was almost like talking.

                He made a gargling noise that quickly morphed into a deep and deadly growl, which he should really know by now, had the opposite effect on her than it did to the rest of the pack. “Where. Are. You.” Ooohhhh, monosyllabic demands – cause it was so totally a demand – meant that he was probably just barely holding on to his human form. By now his ears would have started to point and his pearly white teeth would lengthen along with his claws. Truly a lovely thing to watch when they were alone and he was decidedly _not_ mad at her, but sadly there were to be no sexy times in the future for her….at least not until she finished what she set out to do.

                “Sorry honey buns, but you had your chance to be a part of this rescue mission and you decided that it was too dangerous. Your words, not mine, and I _did_ tell you beforehand that when it came down to a choice between you and him I would choose him no question.” She scowled as she felt tears start to blur her vision but she wrapped that shit up quick, cleared her throat and said softly, “I had hoped that you would understand…after all you did the same thing to me not so very long ago, and I _understood_ but hey, apparently you and I are on some very different wave lengths about how we feel. So why don’t we make some use out of this time and decide what we really want and maybe talk about it when I get back.” And then she quickly ended the call and shut her phone down right as he let out a pained whine. She knew that whine, it was the one he let out when he was really hurt. As in someone – just – had – their – hand – in – my – chest – and – wrapped – around – my – heart – so – I – had – to – rip – their – arm – out – of – the – socket – but – the – hand – is – still – in – my – chest kind of hurt and she hated that she felt guilty.

                She had been completely open and honest with him about this, that for all things she would be on his side but if he ever tried to interfere with her duties that she would be forced to act accordingly. He obviously hadn’t believed her, which is why it had been insultingly easy to drug the whole house and sneak out on the very night that she was going to be ‘formally’ inducted into the pack…whatever the hell that meant. She thought she had already gone through that crap, but no, apparently there were some more fucking werewolf hoops she had to jump through to finally earn her place. Another thing that he had taken for granted from her that she had only gone along with because it had been _important_ to him and she stupidly cared about that. So now here she was driving as fast and as far away from the one place she had truly felt at home since her sister had died, and racing towards the town that had stolen everything from her, Beacon Hills.

 

                All he saw was red, he had never before been so close to losing control but as always she managed to bring him to the very edge of his sanity. His wolf raged and tore at him demanding to be set free, to be free to track down Izzy and force her to submit once and for all. He had finally had her where she belonged, by his side and with his Pack and she had _ruined_ it all. She had effectively managed to do the one thing _no one_ would have anticipated. And really when he thought about it he wasn’t surprised. She had done far crazier things in the five years he had known her in order to see her word through to the end, so he couldn’t really say that this was something out of the ordinary for her. When she set her mind on something nothing and no one could get in her way.

                He stumbled as he tried to stand, he had only just managed to sit up and grab his phone when he had woken up from his drugged state. His head was pounding something fierce and his wolf was still chomping at the bit for him to be moving, running, _hunting_ Izzy down and bringing her back home. But his body was not quite as eager to get going and it took him an agonizing thirty minutes before he could walk without the room spinning.

                He growled as he stepped out of his study and almost tripped over the prone forms of two of his betas. Jonathan and Emily were lying slumped against the wall on opposite sides of the study doors and looked for all intents and purposes like they had simply fallen asleep where they stood. Which if you didn’t know how completely unlike them that was one could almost believe it, but no, the wolfsbane that clearly laced the cups lying next to them dispelled that image. ‘Well, at least I wasn’t the only one she got one up on.’ He thought with begrudging admiration.

                He might be pissed as hell at her, but he had always admired her resourcefulness. Of course, that admiration wore thin by the time he got to the garage and had bypassed the bodies of every. Single. Person. In his household passed out in various awkward positions. He would forever have the imprint of Elder Jack’s head lying face down in the lap of Pastor Richard. Something he was sure she had staged just for the pleasure of messing with the Elder who had repeatedly scorned her contributions to the pack.

                He dragged Ricky – half grease monkey/half werewolf – off of where he had passed out waxing his car and slid into the leather seat. He took a deep breath and scowled when he was hit with the scent of coconut, vanilla, and the faint tang of electricity that always seemed to cling to her. _She_ had been the last person to ride in his baby and he grit his teeth against the urge to lean over and rub his face in the passenger seat. He was pissed at her, and now was not the time to be wallowing in her scent like some love struck pup. He was Alpha and he would be damned if he would allow some slip of a human get away with making a fool of him and his pack. And if he kept the windows up the whole drive into town just so her scent would linger, that was nobody’s business but his own.

                The old grocery store that sat on the corner of 8th and Jasmine St for the past twenty years held a bi-monthly poker game for the owners of the surrounding businesses for about as long as they had been opened. It consisted of Sal Greindt, a 78 year old who was built like a brick house and chain smoked Cubans like it was going out of style. Then there were the Ricardo brothers who owned the Laundromat a block down and a nice little bistro on the other side of Sal’s shop. Immanuel and Julio were the calm ones of the bunch, always thinking their hands through and driving the rest of the table insane with how long it took them to finish a turn.  Last, but not least was Carl Rothberg. A short frail looking man who could and had outdrank a werewolf, his stature was deceptive but his eyes were truly the window to his soul. They were a deep black-brown that made him seem possessed but was really just a genetic fluke inherited from his paternal grandfather. They were all in their twilight years and settled in their lives, and each had a tie to the supernatural world that lived just on the edge of ‘society’.

 The stakes of the game were low enough to be affordable but high enough to be profitable and Sal’s wife Dorothy would always cook up a giant batch of snacks and desserts for them to munch on as they smoked cigars and tossed their chips almost as loosely as their insults across the table. And tonight was no exception as they were well into their game when the door banged open and Martin Wolvmeister strode in looking like murder on a rampage.  

                The group of old men didn’t so much as blink and Sal, proud owner of Sal’s Grocery Outlet #6 took a long drag of his cigar and contemplated his hand. “Well, I see she wasted no time with that wolfsbane I sold to her.” He said as he rearranged his cards and threw a couple of chips into the pot.

                Carl of Carl’s Meats swore and folded taking down the rest of his coke and rum, “Yeah, what the hell is wrong with you young ones now a days? What are you doing to your women that they have to incapacitate you?” He said turning a hard glare on the bristling Alpha. Ricardo had to cover his face to keep from bursting into laughter, but Immanuel had no such compunction letting loose a loud braying sound.  

                “Now boys, it’s not nice to kick someone when they are down.” Dorothy’s calm voice spoke up from the stairs leading up to the loft apartment her and Sal had lived in for longer than they owned the store. Her warm brown eyes crinkled as she beamed at Martin and waved him over. “Forgive them my boy; you know how they hate having their game interrupted. And by the looks of you our beloved Elizabeth has managed to get her way once again. So come, talk to me and let’s see what our two heads can put together.”

                Martin took a deep breath and forced his wolf under control, it raged and tore at him demanding action, demanding Elizabeth and it took all his control to rein it in. But Dorothy’s presence filled the store and pulsed against him, providing him with his anchor and helping keep the beast at bay. One of the many reasons he came here tonight, he hadn’t been this out of control since when he first became Alpha and it worried him that he might go completely wild and hunt Elizabeth down. He hadn’t expected her to go so far in order to see her promise kept, but he should have and it terrified him that she was now out on the road somewhere alone and vulnerable…ok so maybe not so much the vulnerable part but she shouldn’t be alone! She should be back with him and the pack at their home; he should be presenting her to the pack for inspection before claiming her as his mate and thus the new alpha female.

                He shook himself out of his thoughts, knowing that they would only hinder his attempt at control and walked with Dorothy up the stairs and into her home. As always he was surrounded by the various scents that permeated the space, cinnamon and sugar from Dorothy’s baking, leather and old spice from Sal and the warm scent of family that he had only ever encountered with his own pack. He felt himself relax even more and knew that Dorothy’s empathic abilities were taking affect. Some had questioned him when he had first become Alpha and made Dorothy and her husband Sal honorary pack members. They didn’t see the value of having an empath and her cagey ex-hit man for the mafia husband, but when the Full Moon had come around and she had been able to calm the whole pack from the moon frenzy they had understood what he had always known. That having a great offense was having an unbeatable defense, and who would want to fight with Dorothy there eliminating all negative emotion?

                He sat down on the old flower patched couch looking up as Dorothy set a steaming mug of tea down in front of him. “You were expecting me.” He said roughly the fight to control his beast had taken enough out of him that he couldn’t talk with his usual care.                

                Dorothy nodded and gave him a sad smile, her presence emitting a soft ache of regret. “I _had_ hoped that she would find another way to convince you…”She shrugged and took a sip of her own tea, “But she has always been impatient, and add that to her unshakable loyalty and I can’t say that I am surprised she acted as she did.” She frowned and laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “But Martin, you must know that even though her actions were not correct her _intentions_ were.”

                Martin flinched back from her and growled low in his throat. “ _I don’t give a **damn** about her intentions!_ ” He said angrily, his eyes flashing blood red as the Alpha side of him peeked out. “She drugged me, she drugged my whole pack! She even managed to drug the Elders even though they only drink from their flasks and eat meals prepared by their mates! The dodgiest of the dodgiest and she manages to catch all of us off guard at once!” He hunched forward and clasped his fists together tightly, cursing the side of him that was impressed with how crafty she was. “This wasn’t an impulsive act, she _planned_ this. She wanted away from me…” His breath caught slightly and he gritted his teeth against the pain of the truth. “She wanted away from us.”

                Dorothy was shaking her head emphatically and grabbed Martin’s hand forcing him to look at her. He could feel her pushing her utter conviction in the next words she said. “ _That is not true_! I have known that girl for a very long time Martin and you need to believe me when I say that the last thing that girl wants is to be away from you and yours. You weren’t here when she bought the wolfs bane, Martin.” She said softly, “When Sal went upstairs to get it I came out and talked with her for a minute. She was broken Martin, the very thought of what she was about to do tore at her.” And because she truly believed her words he almost did, until white hot rage bubbled back to the surface.

                “Then why did she do it?” He asked, anger and pain lacing his voice. “If she was so content than she shouldn’t have left, _wouldn’t have drugged me and my entire pack!_ And now I’ll have to rebuke her, The Elders will demand it after this complete and blatant act of betrayal. Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire pack called for a new Alpha!” The words dropped out of his mouth like lead weights and he regretted them the moment he said them, even without the hearty wallop to the head he got from Dorothy.

                He gaped at her in shock, this had to be the first time he had ever seen her angry much less using physical violence. But her anger pulsed in the room and he could feel his own respond…except that instead of turning on her it turned on him. “You _idiot_ boy! You wouldn’t be able to rebuke her even if you wanted to! You took care of _that_ the day you claimed her…and you and I are still the only two who know the truth of exactly _when_ that was! So don’t try and play the unfeeling Alpha with me. And if you expect me to just sit here and believe that _you_ would listen to the Elders bitching is such a sorry lie I can’t even laugh at it. And I’m going to ignore that little pity party you just threw for yourself.” She sniffed delicately and mumbled, “Request a new Alpha my ass.”

                He felt every word and began to feel a little sorry for all the people she had used her abilities on at his behest. He was used to a certain amount of self-loathing but coupled with her righteous anger, utter disappointment and the pure power of her conviction he was ready to swan dive off a cliff, but Dorothy Ann Greindt was not quite done with him yet. “For the past five years I have watched you two circling each other, neither one of you willing to give in to the bond you two have. _Keeping your real thoughts and feelings from each other in the hope that it would just fade away_!” She snorted and he almost blushed at the obvious look of ‘You are both idiots’ on her face. He was eerily reminded of when his Aunt, the previous Alpha, would take him to task for some misdeed or other – to be honest there were so many he had started coming home expecting the first words to come out of his Aunts mouth to be, “Boy! Backyard, _now_!” Where she would then put him through the werewolf version of Death Race, complete with excessive metal death traps and projectile weapons. The feeling did not bring him comfort.

                “Yet two months ago it looked like you two had finally gotten your heads out of your asses long enough to see what you had. I have never seen you two so happy, I almost thought someone had cast a love spell on you both. But then two weeks ago, Elizabeth comes looking for wolfs bane heartbroken and tonight you come in here ready to rip some ones throat out, what happened?” She asked glaring him down when he stiffened and tried to scowl it off.

                Recognizing the look he cursed himself for the thousandth time for letting the women in his life walk all over him. This was most definitely not the behavior of a true Alpha, his Aunt had never been coerced into something she didn’t want. But he was not his Aunt, and the fact that the strongest role models in his life had all been women didn’t help him in this situation at all. So he caved and told her exactly what he had done to the woman he loved, “I told her that she was forbidden to leave the county and was under no circumstances to go on some wild goose chase for a relative she hasn’t seen in ten years!” He took a deep breath and let out the rest of it, “And when she told me that if I made her choose between me and her baby boy she would choose him I looked her in the eye and said that if she would choose a virtual stranger over the pack than she shouldn’t bother coming back. That there would be nothing here for her.”

                Dorothy gasped and her head sank into her hands in despair. “Oh you _idiot boy_! What on earth were you thinking?” She said stunned that the boy she had practically helped raise could have grown up to be such an unmitigated ass.

                He sighed and nodded, he had no choice but to agree with the overwhelming sensation of crushing disappointment she was emitting. “I know! I knew the moment the words were out of my mouth that I was wrong. God Dorothy, her eyes when the last word slipped out of my mouth! She shut down, I couldn’t hear her heartbeat…couldn’t pick up her scent…Dorothy I couldn’t _feel_ her. I froze, and she ran, but god help me…I couldn’t move. My wolf panicked and it took everything in me not to turn and race after…cause having a fully transformed Alpha in red alert would have made things better.”

He took a deep breath letting the soothing scents around him lock him to the present; he had never felt terror like that. “She had been right in front of me but for all my senses were concerned she was gone! As in wiped clean, not a trace. I searched the whole goddamned house for some small hint of her scent, and everywhere I went: the bed where we sleep, the couch where she would curl up with her laptop and frantically start typing, I even dug through her laundry hamper but everything she had ever touched was a blank slate. And just when I was starting to really freak out she came home and I could _smell_ her before she got into the house. I was so giddy with relief and it didn’t seem odd that she had your scent on her, even though she isn’t really the type to go crying to someone. I told her we could both go and find her nephew but she just shook her head and said that this was one thing she couldn’t have me help with.” He snorted in derision as he thought of her concerned expression, “She said it was too dangerous, for _me_!”

                Dorothy sighed and shook her head. “Boy, for all the power you do possess you are not infallible and most definitely _not_ indestructible. And you and I both know that Elizabeth could wipe the floor with you, and probably your pack too though she would feel it afterwards…probably.”

                He scowled and rolled his shoulders, he was intimately aware of the difference in power between Izzy and himself. She had been forced to ‘dealing’ with him the first time they had met, the first full moon he had as Alpha and the first and last challenge for his title. He had come out the victor but had sustained extensive injuries and as fast as Alpha healing was it had still taken him days to heal completely. He had been nursing his wounds in a cave after the fight and had let the rest of his pack free to run under the bright light of the Moon, the pack owned extensive lands throughout the county and the Elders made damn sure there was no one out in the woods on a Full Moon. They used every means, increased state patrols, curfew, and a very hit below the belt style of persecution for those found wandering where they were not wanted. Which of course was crack to Izzy and she had stumbled onto their lands and found herself face to face with a fully transformed Alpha who was still not fully come down from the adrenaline rush of cementing his place as Alpha of his pack coupled with the usual moon fever.

He had been on her in an instant; fangs bared and going for the ivory column of her throat when he had suddenly found himself frozen in place and staring into the widest green eyes he had ever seen. And then she had giggled, fucking giggled as she took a step back and looked him up and down, he had been a jumble of instinct and adrenaline and had tried to snap and snarl at her but was as immobile as stone. She had clucked at him like a disapproving mother hen when she noticed his wounds and had somehow wrangled him into lying down on his side while she tended to his wounds. He had still been unable to move or speak but as the pain and adrenaline wore off he had slowly regained his human form, he still remembered the blush that had turned her cheeks from a pale pearl to rosy pink. When she had finished tending to his wounds she had thrown her coat over his waist and left quickly, leaving him naked and frozen to the ground until the first rays of the sun peaked over the treetops.

He had returned to the pack stronger than they expected him, and there had been whispers that he had gone to a favorite female. But that rumor had been quickly dispelled as none of the pack females copped to being with the Alpha and the thought that some other female had been with him was next to impossible, as all werewolves would have formally presented themselves to state their intentions and show respect, and the Alpha would have ripped a human woman to shreds. So the pack simply put the odd disappearance of their Alpha to the back of their minds and moved on with their lives, all but Martin. He had become obsessed with finding the woman who had managed to immobilize him and tended so thoroughly to his wounds. The packs physician, Seamus Finnigan –another constant at Sal’s poker night- had told him that whoever had patched him up had previous experience with these kinds of wounds and had helped his healing along by at least a day.

So he had hunted her. He had taken her jacket that she had left him and used it to trace her scent. But it had been frustrating, her scent was literally _everywhere_ something that had puzzled him until he had realized that that had been why he was so often in town anyway. It was in the library where he went to get away from his responsibilities as Alpha for a time. It was laced through the park, creating an alluring trail of vanilla and coconut, and a sharper more electric scent that made something in his gut clench. Hell it was even in the grocery store when he went to replenish his secret sweet stash that if any of his pack found out about he would become the laughingstock of the were community. But even though it permeated every moment of his day, he never caught a glimpse of the woman. And when he tried to remember what she looked like he could only vaguely remember laughing green eyes and skin that was impossibly soft from when her hands had tenderly cleaned his wounds.  

The thing that really had stuck in his memory though had been her voice from the one and only time she had spoken that night. It had been right before he had regained his human form, and she was patching up the second to last wound. It had been a particularly nasty one and had been landed only by pure luck; he had repaid the beta with a slashed throat, when she had started to sing. Softly and almost absentmindedly as if she wasn’t in a cave in the middle of the night tending to the wounds of a half-crazed werewolf, her voice wasn’t impressive but it was warm and melodic and didn’t mangle the melody of Journey’s Lights. It had woven around him and brought him back from the moon fever and the bloodlust. He had soon gotten his human form back after that and she had abruptly stopped singing and quickly finished tending the last wound before getting the hell out of dodge.

Every night he dreamed of her, and every morning he went into town with a single minded determination – he _would_ find her. It wasn’t until he had gone to visit Dorothy in order to maybe see if she knew of anyone in the town who could have abilities like that…or at least _what_ had abilities like that. He had taken the fire escape in the back up to the apartment and had slid in through the window when her scent had hit him. It was concentrated, she was in the apartment and his ears picked up Dorothy in the kitchen talking to someone. Someone who could stop a full grown Alpha in the midst of moon fever and still patch him up after he tried to rip her throat out, he softly padded to the kitchen and peaked through the doorway. ‘That was it,’ He thought to himself finally giving in a taking a sip of the now cold tea Dorothy had given him. ‘That was the moment I lost any and all control over my life.’

Because after he had _seen_ her, he of course then had to meet her. And from there it had snowballed, she had turned out to be a fire cracker and had done her level best to get him to stop ‘stalking’ her – her word not his, he much preferred the term ‘hunting’ – but he had been stubborn and when her abilities had proven to be more useful than his wildest dreams he had made her a part of his pack. A move that had created very little waves considering what a hissy fit the pack had thrown at his induction of Dorothy and Sal. But it was only more proof that his position was secure, his pack trusted him and when a flock of harpies had blown through town and Elizabeth had been the one to eviscerate the Queen pigeon any and all questions of his leadership and the right of the humans to be in their pack were put to rest.

Of course, that she had drugged the entire pack in a single go caused some problems, but none that he couldn’t overcome. He was Alpha and there were none in his pack who could challenge him, and the power of the Elders went to bitching and overseeing the investments the pack had accumulated over the years. But none of that mattered now because Izzy was out there by herself and walking into something that was bigger and badder than him. Oh yes, he might deny that anything could beat him, but he had seen the terror in Izzy’s eyes when she had spoken of the threat coming after her nephew. She had been out of her mind scared, and he had known it, he _smelt_ it on her, and so he had forbidden her from going anywhere near it. Her nephew was ignorant of their world and there was no reason to expect something supernatural to happen to him.

So he had ignored her wishes and had brushed aside the fact that she was loyal and stubborn and crazy enough to take on an entire pack of werewolves in one go. The Wolvmeister pack was not the largest in existence, not even the largest in America but they were large enough to persuade most supernatural threats to stay clear. Never really worked on the hunters though, Martin had always thought that the Argent line was just a little too inbred and the red necks and ghetto snipes they recruited from left something to be desired. But she hadn’t even blinked, instead she had incapacitated the pack and him in such a way as to produce minimal damage and had hightailed it out of there as quickly as possible. She probably had been packed and ready two weeks ago and had just been waiting for the right moment. And what could have been more perfect than a pack meeting, especially such an important one? Though, admittedly he hadn’t told her the exact truth of the importance of the meeting, he had wanted to surprise her with the announcement that he was going to take her as his mate.

But instead of being back at his home in bed with his new mate-to-be he was here, sitting on Dorothy’s couch and drinking ice cold tea. He needed to figure something out, but she had never told him her nephew’s name, or even where her old town was. In fact, she hadn’t really shared anything about when she lived in her hometown. She had always skirted the subject or distracted him into an apoplectic seizure by picking a fight.

Dorothy snapped him out of his thoughts with a little hum of approval and he glanced up into her smiling face. “Well, it looks like you know what needs to happen now,” She said the old warmth and approval back in her voice. “Now bring out the little gift you brought for me so that I can find your mate and you can go and save her from her self…and whatever new nasty she has managed to piss off this time.”

He smiled as he pulled out the bra that he had saved one afternoon when she had surprised him after a particularly rough meeting amongst the Elders. He had snagged it when she was passed out on his desk naked as the day she was born and bathed in sunlight. When he had gone back to the meeting the pinched bitch faces of the elders when they noticed the black lace peeking out from his pocket was worth every minute of the meeting. At Dorothy’s look he shrugged and grinned toothily, “What can I say, I’m a collector.” And laid it gently in her hands.

Dorothy rolled her eyes and he sat back watching as she went deep within herself and pulled upon her power. This was a special skill of hers that was rare among empaths. Usually they could feel out emotions and manipulate them, but only the most powerful of empaths could seek out and find someone based on their emotional output. It didn’t take long and Dorothy’s eyes snapped open wide and panicked. She looked at Martin and shook her head slowly, “What is it? Is she blocking you?” He asked desperately his hackles rising.

                “No, I know where she’s going, but Martin…” She paused and took a shaky breath that did nothing to sooth him, whatever she had sensed had spooked a woman he had seen reduce a raging vampire to a sobbing child cringing in the corner. “My boy, there was something else, something much stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. And…it was following her.” She said softly, she picked up a pen and quickly scratched out the name she had managed to get from her search. She blinked back her tears and gave it to him. “She _was_ trying to block me, but that… _thing_ is sending out some serious mojo. It shook her block just enough for me to get a name.” Martin glanced at the paper and committed the two words to memory.

                “Stiles Stillinsky? Wow, sure would hate to be that kid in the sandbox.” He said sarcastically, but he frowned as something occurred to him and he glanced back to Dorothy. “You couldn’t get anything else?” He asked trying to curb the need to demand more.

                Dorothy sighed and rubbed her arms over her arms. “No my boy, I’m sorry. Elizabeth is unusually strong and even with whatever that _was_ disrupting everything I wouldn’t have been able to get half that much.”

                He nodded and stood tucking the piece of paper in his pocket. “Thank you; I wouldn’t have known where to start without your help.” He said looking into her eyes and bowing his head in resect.

                Dorothy smiled tiredly and waved him off, “You’re welcome, now go. Elizabeth is in way over her head and she’ll need you before this is all said and done.” He was out the door in an instant, one last parting nod and then her door slid smoothly shut.

                Dorothy slumped back against her chair and let out a breath. “So the story was real…oh my dear dear girl.” She whispered sadly shivering as she felt a ghost of the thing that stalked after her friend. “What _are_ you?”

 


	3. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mr. Harris proves once and for all that he does not. Fuck. Around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next chapter. For those of you in for the long run I feel I should prepare you that it will indeed be a long run. This is going to many chapters long with various plot twists and character development. Hopefully with limited to any OOC-ness. So enjoy, and don't be shy! Drop a word off in the comments! : )

Chapter Two: An Interlude

   “Dude have you noticed the sudden abundance of crows around town lately?” Stiles said in his usual Adderall induced chatter, “I mean, do you think there could be such a thing as Were-Crows? Or maybe witches…” His amber eyes lit up and Scott braced himself for another wild theory. “Or maybe we’ve got an infestation of Hagravens!”

   “Mr. Stilinski! If I have to tell you one more time to shut. Your. Trap. You will personally be responsible for clean-up duty for the next six months.” Mr. Harris’s monotone voice never truly rose, but it cut through Stiles chatter like a knife.

   Stiles slumped further onto his stool and zipped his lips, or at least made the vague attempt to but as always his mouth had other ideas. “But just think dude…Hagravens in Beacon Hills. What next, Dragonborn?” He ‘whispered’ excitedly, which of course brought down the chem book of doom as Mr. Harris slammed his thick teaching book onto his desk.

   “All right, _Mr. Stilinski_ as it is obvious that the more _accepted_ forms of discipline are failing in curbing your incessant need for a running dialogue twenty. four. seven.” He stopped just long enough to catch a breath and adjust his glasses and then turn his ice blue eyes back to the cringing teenager. “Then I am now forced to become more… _creative_. After school today you will come back here for your detention.” Mr. Harris gave a sadistic grin that made the other students shift nervously and would have normally brought Stiles on the verge of a panic attack…except that he now had to deal with almost daily doses of werewolf madness and being slammed into hard objects due to said wolves. So yeah, bitch face chemistry teacher assigning him detention for the millionth time not as scary as a full blown Alpha rage right in your face.

   But when the day had finally ended he still turned up for his detention, he had contemplated not going for a brief – brief moment, but he had put his dad through a lot lately and the last thing the man needed was a call from the school about how his son had once more managed to fuck up. He had a vague fantasy of his dad having an aneurysm and falling dead, body still twitching and clutching the telephone while Mr. Harris laughed manically on the other end. He blinked the image away and walked into the chem lab. Mr. Harris sat at his desk grading papers and ignored Stiles. So he shrugged, maybe Mr. Harris had been bluffing with his sadistic aura and threats, and eased onto his usual stool.

   Thirty minutes later Mr. Harris still hadn’t said a word to Stiles and he was starting to hear natures call. “Umm, Mr. Harris?” He said softly raising his hand up, Mr. Harris smiled and Stiles started to feel a little nervous.

  He gulped when his teachers eyes turned to him, they were alight with a vicious delight that certainly did not bode well for Stiles. “Yes, Mr. Stilinski?” He said reaching a casual hand over to a nondescript black button that Stiles hadn’t noticed when he came in.

  He opened his mouth to speak when he got hit with a mild shock of electricity and flopped on his stool for a few seconds. Mr. Harris took his finger off the button and Stiles slumped onto the table breathing raggedly as his body tried to cope with the fact that it had had _electricity_ running through it. He glared at Mr. Harris but the man just smiled wider and pressed the button again. Stiles yelped and actually fell off the stool this time, his body twitching sporadically on the floor.

   Mr. Harris actually laughed at the sight of his long term nemesis twitching like a fish out of water. “Oh Mr. Stilinski it appears you didn’t notice the two wires attached to the stool you sat on, don’t worry. It’s at too low a voltage to cause you any real damage but it seems to have succeeded where all other attempts on my part have failed to _get your attention_!” He stood and walked slowly over to the twitching teen, crouching down so he could catch Stiles eyes. “Do I have your attention now, Mr. Stilinski?” he asked softly and smiled at the glare in his student’s eyes. “Oh yes, it looks like I do. Good. Now I just need you to keep focused, the electricity should help with that, and listen very carefully to what I am about to say.

   You are the second most intelligent student in this school Mr. Stilinski, of course you know who is first even though she likes to hide behind the façade of valley bimbette, you have a 4.0 GPA and that’s down from the 4.5 you maintained when you still participated in extra credit assignments. You are a fairly athletic young man, though admittedly not as impressive as your best friend or the talented Mr. Whittemore. You seem to be a part of a rather core group of friends yet you are always in the library alone and rarely are seen out carousing the town with said friends. In fact, I have witnessed Mr. McCall and Ms. Argent on frequent double dates with both Mr. Whittemore and Ms. Martin, but alas you were nowhere to be found.” Mr. Harris sighed and took his glasses off wiping them clean on his jacket. “But this I could understand, after all you could be focusing on your studies, or perhaps you don’t want to feel like a fifth wheel but I don’t think it’s any of that. Cause you see, Mr. Stilinski I have been watching you for the entirety of your high school career. Through the past two years you have been alarmingly brilliant but completely and utterly _unfocused_. I was quite sure that you would remain so unfocused until at least college and then you would be someone else’s problem but imagine my surprise and curiosity when over the course of a few weeks I have watched you go from a scattered brained sycophant with an annoying ability to retain information that borders on the supernatural to a highly _focused_ and rebellious young man.”

   The twitching had finally stopped but Stiles stayed down, relishing in the cool linoleum that smelled heavily of bleach and chlorine. His heart was still making a valiant attempt to escape via his ribcage and his skin felt both too sensitive and numb.

   Mr. Harris was making about as much sense as he usually did, but that last part seemed to hint at more and so he begrudgingly listened to his teacher for probably the first time in his life. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, and I don’t want to know. But I do think it’s time for us to get a few things clear, you may have found some new purpose in your life but _I_ am already fulfilling mine. My job is to make sure that you little mongrels are prepared for the big bad world you are all going to be thrown into in a little less than two years from now, I could care less about your home life, girl/boy/whatever the fuck dramas, or even if you were diagnosed with some life threatening disease. So the way I see it, you can either start applying yourself in my classes, and since I’ve had to go this far to get through that thick skull of yours why not try applying yourself in _every_ class…or…” Mr. Harris gestured to the now visible wires staring Stiles in the face from his spot on the floor. “I can amp up the dosage and hit you again in class…in front of everyone. Are we clear?”

   Stiles gulped and nodded his head; he slowly started to get to his feet when he felt the heavy weight a foot on his back holding him down. “I didn’t get that, care to repeat it?” Mr. Harris drawled digging his heel just slightly into Stiles lower back.

   Stiles yelped and shouted, “FINE! I get it, shape up or get the chair of electric doom!” He struggled briefly under the pressure, it didn’t hurt but the threat was blatant and he just wanted to get back on his feet.

   Mr. Harris gave an approving hum and released Stiles, grimacing as the teenager shot up to his feet and then proceeded to almost knock himself out on the corner of his lab table. He sighed and went back to his desk taking his glasses off and rubbing his aching temples. He hated teenagers with a fiery passion and would always regret not having taken that position at the Community College, but no, he had been too proud and now he was reduced to electrocuting his students to get them to pay attention in class long enough to graduate. “You are free to go Mr. Stilinski, and if I were you I wouldn’t go whining about your horrible Chem teacher…after all, you wouldn’t want those wires showing up anywhere…else now would we?” He said menacingly and didn’t bother to look up until he heard the telltale schink of the chem lab door latching.

   He sighed and placed his glasses firmly on his nose, he had a long night ahead of him and over two hundred mid-terms to grade before he could go home and convince Coach to whip up his famous Alfredo.


	4. All work and no play and all that...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter takes a short trip up a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is everyone's favorite Sassy Peter. The next couple of chapters will have more of our favorite broody wolf and the wonder twins.

Chapter Three: All work and no play and all that….

Peter knew this was a bad idea. Knew it so well he could still feel the lacerations Derek had given him when he had found him doing exactly the same clandestined activity a few days ago. But even though the consequences of his actions could and most likely would cause him great physical pain, he just couldn’t bring himself to truly care.

After all, he was a werewolf and he would always heal from _physical_ wounds. He had already survived more severe injuries than Derek would be willing to impart upon him. Not with the Alpha pack’s arrival and the fact that he was Gerard was persona non grata, but one didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that that wouldn’t last. So Peter leaned back against the tree that he found had the most breathtaking view in the entirety of Beacon Hills and allowed himself to enjoy said view.

The window that his vantage point from within the trees protective limbs had an unhindered view of lit up. The flimsy gauze curtains that were more decoration than actual defense against the elements…or perhaps a pair of prying eyes, and Peter didn’t know if the occupant fully appreciated the fact that she was one amazingly beauty woman with only a teenage – granted werewolf – son as protection. He pulled in a deep breath as she came into view and he caught a hint of her scent, lilies and amber. He had always wondered about that scent when he had been in his healing coma, at first he had thought he’d imagined it. The mind is a powerful tool, he knew that better than most, and he wouldn’t have put it past his to fabricate an anchor from the reality that surrounded him.

And, in a way, he had. Just not the way he had expected. The scent had originally existed in the hospital when he had been brought into the ER, the night when the man he was had died in the fire with the rest of his family.  He didn’t remember anything from when he had lost consciousness to the dying screams of his pack, but sometimes…when he is near her…he gets a flash of _something_. But it was always an overload of sensory input, lights flashing in time with blaring sirens and the frantic yells of the EMT’s trying to keep him alive when his injuries should have made that a moot point already. And always, lacing through his mind like the thread given to Theseus, leading him deeper into the labyrinth of his mind, was the taunting scent of fresh water lilies and warm amber.

The curtains pulled back and Peter was granted a full view inside the room. Melissa stood in the front of her window putting her face into the cool breeze and taking a deep breath, a habit of hers when she would come home from a particularly long shift at the hospital. Her dark beauty stood in stark contrast to the mono-chromatic color scheme in her room, but it only made her easier to see so he wouldn’t dream of complaining. He could feel his eyes change as he used his enhanced vision to ‘zoom’ in on her, her hair was loose and hung in wild disarray around her head and caught the light of her lamp in its onyx depths. Her eyes were the same twin pools of obsidian and he felt his gut clench as he flashed back to that moment months ago when she had been right next to him, eyes liquid heat and the heady scent of her arousal clouding his mind and bringing the beast closer to the surface.

He hadn’t been meaning to bite her in the car, he had actually been planning to get her someplace a little more secluded and then he would have some fun with her first. But he hadn’t been prepared for her effect on him and if he didn’t know any better he would almost think she was a supernatural being herself. Her scent, made stronger the greater her… interest in him grew, had taken him by surprise and his wolf had reacted before he could control it. And it had been very _specific_ about what it had wanted.

When he had been trying to puzzle out exactly how to get Scott to quit running from him and actually embrace the gift he had given him, turning Melissa hadn’t been his first option. He had not wanted to be too harsh with the new pup, but so far the boy had managed to evade him at every opportunity and he had been running out of both patience and options. He almost regretted giving the bite to such a hopeless fool as a teenage boy, but he had to work with what he was given even if that meant he was stuck with hormonal drama queen teenagers. So he had concocted the brilliant – in his mind – scheme that if Melissa McCall was also part of the pack than Scott would have no choice but to fall into line. And besides, every pack needed strong healthy female betas…and Melissa was that and more.  

He had been surprised at how easy it had been to ask Melissa out; he still remembered the shock in her eyes when he had casually asked if she had any plans that night. He had expected a woman as lovely and nurturing as Melissa to be one of those women who got hit on so often that no was just a natural reflex. But instead a charming blush had suffused her caramel cheeks and the scent of lilies and amber had grown as her heart rate increased. She hadn’t stuttered her reply even though her heart was beating a rapid staccato against her ribcage, and she had kept her eyes firmly on his when she had informed him that he could pick her up around seven.

He had admired that about her, the fact that even though she was clearly out of her element and more than a little nervous she still maintained her composure and her pride. He had been even more confident in his decision to bite her, and if her son hadn’t proven to be such a devious little shit he was sure she would have made a fantastic wolf.

But that was the past, and though he knew how to cheat death, and even how to make a mean soufflé, he could not go back in time. And Peter was nothing if not practical, so while he was adjusting to his diminished strength and the fact that his idiot nephew had the common sense of a nine year old on a sugar high, he stole a few hours every other night to focus on something that had absolutely nothing to do with dastardly plots or looming threats.

Melissa smiled softly as a light breeze picked up and teased her curls around her cheeks. Peter’s heart clenched at the sight, she was just so peaceful standing there soaking in the night. A dark Madonna that glowed in the soft light of her room, and for the first time in a very long time Peter felt his wolf stir for something other than revenge. And even though he wouldn’t stop coming on these nightly excursions, and he certainly wouldn’t jeopardize his precarious position in the pack by approaching her, Peter did let his wolf out just the teeniest bit.

Miles away and in the very room Peter had been looking into, Melissa McCall started as a lone howl pierced the silence she had been basking in. Her eyes, which had slid shut as she soaked up the peace and quiet of the night, snapped open and darted around looking for any sign of the thing that had issued the noise. The still woods were the only thing they took in and after a moment Melissa relaxed but she still slid her window closed and locked it tight, drawing the curtains with a quick flick of her wrists.

A couple of weeks ago, she would have written it off as a coyote, or maybe a wild dog. But then she had seen a werewolf and a giant lizard have an ultimate death match while she watched helplessly from within a cell. Not to mention when Scott, her baby boy, had shown up snarling and sporting fangs and flashing gold eyes. Besides, that howl had sounded entirely too playful for her to not think that maybe her son was out there right now running on all fours and being chased by a spastic teenager in a red hoodie.

Oddly, the thought brought her a little bit of comfort even though her normal worry mode as a mother had been in overload since she had first found out about her son’s transformation. After all, in a world that now held such terrifying and savage creatures, at least her idiot son wouldn’t be stumbling through it alone. She quickly shook herself out of her whimsical thoughts and went back to the most important part of her night, a long soak in her tub surrounded by fragrant bubbles and reading the newest romance novel from her favorite author, Bel Uosusluna. 


	5. Chapter Five: To Sleep Perchance to Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek runs with his pack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have and apology to make, sorry about the lateness of this chapter. Work was a bit of a bitch and so I had to sacrifice a few things in order to put it back in it's place. So here is the next installment and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Five: To Sleep Perchance to Dream

The woods were silent tonight. The moon hanging full and luminescent filtered through the trees as dark shapes flowed between them. Derek ducked his head as he ran through the forest, his heart racing in the joy of the hunt. His pack ran with him, flowing out and around as they scented the night and raced towards their prey.

The Alpha had caught sight of the buck the Pack had separated from the herd; her howl cut through the forest and alerted the rest of the wolves. Laura burst through the shadows of the trees; the moonlight lit up her dark hair and made it shine. She stopped briefly in front of him, a teasing grin gracing her face as her golden eyes flashed in the night. “Better hurry up little brother or the best pieces will be claimed.” And with a throaty laugh that was really more of a growl she disappeared into the night.

Derek snarled and picked up speed, the land flowing underneath him like water. His blood raced and he felt the part of him that was more wolf than man join him in reveling in this moment. He was home, running in the woods of his childhood with his Pack, with his family. Something pinged dimly in his mind, like a discordant note in the harmony of the night. But he pushed it aside as he came upon the buck, his pack gathered around it calling out the cuts they wanted.

“I want the rump!” Emily called claiming her long favorite cut and her right as first among the wolves to reach the Alpha. Ryan skidded to a halt in front of her and nearly tripped over his still growing legs. “N-no fair! You always get the rump!” He whined his fangs making him look like a horror film-esque version of lassie with his wavy golden locks and his wide green eyes that glowed orange in his wolf form. Derek grinned as the two youngest in their pack started tussling, their growls echoing through the trees.

          Of course, that was nothing compared to the deep rumbling growl that shook the very ground as the Alpha reminded her pups that fighting over rights that had already been contested and decided upon was not allowed. She was lying down underneath a massive ash tree that had grown on Hale territory since before the pack had first claimed it, her inky black fur making it hard to see where the shadows ended and she began. On her left sat her mate, his brilliant blue eyes filled with humor as he watched his pups settle, and on her right stood Laura the wolf contained and her face human in a sea of fangs and fur.

          “ _We do not fight amongst ourselves!_ ” The Alpha’s voice echoed through the clearing and the pups crouched low, baring their necks in submission. She stood easily dislodging her mate’s hold where he had been rhythmically stroking the fur between her shoulder blades. He did not protest, just stood with her as always just slightly behind but constant. And as Derek watched his Alpha, his mother, stand in all her glory underneath the full moon he realized that something was _missing_. Which confused him, his pack was here, and they had hunted together and brought down a buck of no small size. The massive rack adorning the head of their kill counted twenty and the meat off their kill would feed the entire pack.

          But still his instincts would not quiet and he prowled the edges of their circle, scenting the air every couple of turns to see if he could find what was wrong. The woods were quiet, the prey either buried in their dens or fled to the farthest corners of their territory and there were few that would dare to attack a pack at full strength on the night of the full moon. He growled softly and his mother speared him with a piercing ruby gaze. “ _Derek? What is it?_ ” She stood at alert, and the rest of the pack followed fangs bared and claws slashing through the dark. She scented the air and stilled tilting her head to the side she slanted a knowing look at her son and signaled to the rest of the pack to stand down.

          Derek snarled in frustration and glanced between his mother and the dark woods, his senses pulling at him to _go go go_. Something was tugging at him, pulling him to leave the pack and go into the looming darkness of the forest. Softly, a footstep fell and Derek stiffened. A soft breath and then more footsteps and now there was a heartbeat slowly making its way towards him. Derek growled he could feel his hackles rise, and knew that he was completely ‘wolfed’ out – as Laura was so fond of calling it.

          He wanted nothing more than to bolt into the woods after whatever was out there, but he wouldn’t – couldn’t – abandon his pack. Not again. He blinked as his world shifted and all of a sudden the clearing was empty of anyone save him, and Derek spun looking desperately for his family. He caught a glimpse of shadows and almost sagged with relief when he noticed his pack running through the trees, the blood red gaze of his Alpha pierced the night, but his mother did not speak again. Derek wasn’t surprised when his father stepped briefly into the light and smiled at him.

          “Derek, don’t worry. I _know_ that it’s going to be hard for you to understand, hell, it’ll be even harder to experience.” His father sighed and looked back at his mate, his blue eyes softening as it only ever did when he looked at her. “But trust me; you have to fight for it! With everything you have, son, you fight and you rage and you _keep_ what is yours.” His words were fierce, passion and the echoes of past pain making it come out more as a growl, and then he was gone another shadow in the woods.

          Derek frowned, his father’s words echoing in his head and then the scent hit him. It was fresh and wild, like going into the forest after a thunderstorm. The smell of the earth, heady and thick coupled with the bright scent of electricity and a humming that was so low that even his ears barely registered it. He turned when he realized that the humming was actually a voice that was right behind him, and gaped at the sight that greeted him.

          Stiles stood before him, wearing his usual red hoodie and jeans but nothing else. His feet were bare and covered with dirt and leaves from walking through the forest, and his chest gleamed pale underneath the moonlight. He was smiling and Derek sucked in a breath at how much such a simple act changed the boy he knew as a hyperactive know-it-all control freak. Instead of the accusing glare that he always seemed to bring out of the kid, Stiles was looking at him like he was his Christmas present. He almost checked to see if he had a bow or ribbon attached anywhere before he remembered that he was a fucking werewolf and there was a full moonand, “ _What the hell do you think you’re doing?_ ” He roared gesturing to Stiles’ state of undress and exposure to the elements. “You are an idiot! Do you get that you’re human and thus completely at the mercy of anything with fangs and –hmph!” Stiles mouth cut off Derek’s tirade and he had a brief moment to wonder how the kid had managed to sneak up on him before he got a taste of him and then he was gone.

          Stiles smiled against his lips and gently took Derek’s bottom lip between his teeth biting just hard enough to sting and then letting it go with a wet suckle that drove Derek wild and had him grabbing Stiles and forcing him closer. He clutched him close and licked his way into Stile’s mouth, nipping and sucking alternately until Stiles let out the most delicious moan. It was deep and throaty and Derek felt it all the way to his groin and let out a groan himself as he nudged a thigh between Stile’s legs. His knees almost buckled when he felt Stiles arousal hard and long against his leg and the scent of Stiles’ arousal hit him heady and intoxicating.

          Stiles moaned again and rutted against Derek’s leg, his hands sliding up and down Derek’s back until finally sliding up into Derek’s hair and giving a harsh tug as he pressed close. Derek growled and reached his hands down to grab the ass that had been driving him wild since the first time he had seen it, and ground up against Stiles. Stiles seemed to appreciate that if the long needy whine that came from his mouth as he gasped helplessly against Derek’s mouth was anything to go by, and Derek felt a grin of his own stretch across his lips as he nipped Stiles upper lip.

          He pulled back, desperate for a glimpse of what Stiles looked like strung out on pleasure, lips bruised from kissing and face flushed. Stiles stood gasping for breath as Derek took in his flushed cheeks and bruised lips, shiny with saliva and so damn kissable that Derek almost bent down to taste those lips again. But he didn’t, instead he took another deep breath of Stiles and tightened his grip on him moving his hips in a slow grind that had Stiles’ head dropping down onto his shoulder with a helpless moan as he rutted on Derek’s leg.

          “D-derek, _god that feels good.”_ Stiles groaned against Derek’s shoulder his voice taking on a deeper cadence than Derek had ever heard from him before. He stilled, something in him perking up and the same wrongness of the night permeating the air. He huffed taking in the night and the scent of Stiles and his arousal, but he couldn’t find anything that would make the hair on the back of his neck rise.

          Stiles seemed to sense that something was wrong and he gave a pained groan as he leaned back to get a glimpse of Derek’s face. “Derek? What’s wrong?” He said his voice struggling between calm and heavily aroused. Derek turned to answer him and jerked back when his jade eyes collided with glittering obsidian. Where Stiles’ eyes had once been a lustrous Umber now they were jet black, his pupils hidden behind that darkness and they were looking right _at him!_

          Derek woke gasping; his sheets drenched and heart hammering a mile a minute in his chest. He took deep calming breaths and slowly got his breathing and heart rate under control. A dream, just a dream. A disturbing, incredibly _erotic,_ dream, but simply a byproduct of his sub conscious – no - , not a byproduct, he didn’t think about _Stiles_ , a teenage kid who frustrated and annoyed him but in _no way_ turned him on to the point he would-

          Derek shook himself and got hastily out of bed, his night was shot and there were still plenty of things he could be doing with his time than stressing about a nightmare that was probably the consequence of letting Peter cook last night’s dinner. The man had never been able to really cook, but Derek had been too exhausted to care and Peter had had dinner ready when he had arrived at his apartment from another fruitless night of searching for the Alpha pack.

          And if when he went to the bathroom to shower he had to carefully peel his boxer/briefs over his raging erection he chalked that up to the fact that he just hadn’t gotten any in a while and jerked off in the shower. And he most definitely _did not_ picture Stiles face flushed and panting, nor of how his ass had felt in his palms, fitting his hips almost like a puzzle piece against his…and Derek most certainly _did not_ moan the kids name as he came in thick hot ropes across his chest and hands.

          As he stood panting underneath the warm spray of the shower, Derek wondered when he stopped believing the lies he told himself. 


End file.
